Captain Wentworth's Christmas Carol
by EightYearsandaHalf
Summary: On Christmas Day in the year 1809, Frederick is visited by the ghost of Captain Jacob Marley and three Spirits. Jane Austen's Persuasion meets Charles Dickens' A Christmas Carol.
1. Chapter 1 - A Visit from Captain Marley

Captain Frederick Wentworth sat inside his cabin aboard his 32-gun frigate Laconia, listening to the familiar creak of wood and feeling the gentle pitch of the ship as it sailed through the English Channel. Earlier in the day, he had hosted a Christmas Day dinner for his officers, followed by several rubbers of whist. The only guest remaining now was Thomas Harville, his first lieutenant, who sat with him at the table, each man holding a glass with a small amount of port in it.

"A magnificent dinner, sir," Harville was saying. "I must say that after a week on salt beef and biscuits with the rest of the ship, the smoked ham, puréed potatoes and plum duff were like heaven on a plate."

Frederick smiled, happy for the compliment. After months at sea, the officers were down to the dreaded, barely edible ship's provisions. Frederick's private stores had been near empty as well, and unbeknownst to all the men except his steward, Denham, he too had eaten salt beef and biscuits for the past seven days so that he could offer a respectable Christmas dinner tonight.

"Thank you, Mr. Harville. I hope you shall not have to eat any more provisions after tomorrow's breakfast. Do you think we shall be anchored at Plymouth by then?"

"Yes, sir. For once, the weather is on our side," Harville replied with a hint of excitement in his voice.

Frederick leaned back in his chair and smiled at his first lieutenant. "You are looking forward to seeing Mrs. Harville and your boy, Edward, no doubt."

"Indeed, sir. When I last saw Edward he was only four months old. Margaret's latest letter said he is quite the troublemaker now: climbing up sofas, pulling down curtains and causing more destruction in the gardens than any animals ever could do."

Frederick gave a slight laugh and nodded as if he understood the predicament exactly, but he did not, for he was neither a husband nor a father.

 _Though I should have been married and might even have had a child by now…_

He brushed that thought away and swirled his glass, watching the rich amber liquid move in circles and wishing he had more than a scant portion of it. "Enjoy your time together. We only have three days ashore, as you know, but are fortunate to return at Christmastime."

"Yes, sir, I will. Margaret said she would delay Christmas Day dinner till we arrived. This will be our first year enjoying it together."

"Quite a special occasion, then." The conversation brought forth a great emptiness in Frederick's heart, one that had become painfully familiar over the past three years. "Do you know if Mrs. Harville will serve goose or turkey?"

"Goose - she plans to find the largest one in Plymouth, and will also have mince pies, jellies and plum pudding."

Though he was not hungry, Frederick's mouth watered at the mention of those traditional Christmas dishes. He had not enjoyed such a feast since before joining the Royal Navy College fourteen years ago. This year would offer the best opportunity to be with family, but his nearest relations were his older sister Sophia, who was presently in the East Indies with her husband, and his brother Edward, who lived two hundred fifty miles away in Shropshire — a two day journey in the best conditions. Tomorrow night, Frederick would be sitting alone at The Anchor, his usual Plymouth inn, partaking of something like pease soup and beef-steaks with watery sauce. Though if he was lucky, the innkeeper might have some remaining plum pudding - the real kind, topped with lit brandy. Frederick smiled at the thought.

After a pause, Harville said, "Margaret and I would be honoured to have your company at dinner, sir, if you are free at three o'clock tomorrow."

The invitation surprised Frederick as he and Harville had only been acquainted about a year, but he was very tempted to accept. He enjoyed the company of his first lieutenant but did not wish to intrude upon the short family reunion.

 _When the war ends, I will find a wife - a woman with a strong mind and sweetness of manner, not weak like…_

He brushed that thought aside too, swirled the port again, and drank it down in one mouthful.

"I thank you, Mr. Harville, but I have plans. Please present my compliments and regrets to Mrs. Harville, and Merry Christmas."

Harville left soon after and Frederick went to his desk to finish reviewing the officers' books and accounts ahead of the Laconia's arrival in Plymouth. When he was done with his work, he relaxed in the chair with satisfaction, his hands folded in his lap. His gaze went around the great cabin. The room was sparsely furnished, with just the minimum amount of chairs, tables, and decoration that the dignity of his rank required.

There was a time when Frederick spent freely what had come freely, and he imagined that, after achieving the coveted rank of post-captain, his cabin would boast the finest furniture, silverware and crystal that he could afford. But then he lost his heart to Anne Elliot, and she had cited his lack of fortune among other reasons for breaking their engagement. Since then, he had diligently saved as much money as possible, and he now possessed a small fortune of five thousand pounds. He had not done it for her, however, but to prove that he could be worthy of any baronet's daughter. No, Frederick no longer wanted to marry Anne Elliot.

 _Her power with me is gone forever._

On a whim, he leaned forward and pulled open a desk drawer. Reaching his hand inside, he felt around the back until he located and pulled out a small parcel. It was wrapped in a linen handkerchief, with a single forget-me-not flower neatly embroidered in one corner. He held the bundle in his hand, feeling its weight and recalling the contents inside: the only two letters Anne wrote to him. She had sent them, along with the handkerchief, during their brief, ill-fated engagement. He did not need to read them to remember her words: expressions of love, exquisite felicity, and constancy. A sharp pain bloomed in his chest.

 _How young and foolish I was._

Moving to return the parcel to the drawer, he stopped when he noticed a strange alteration to Anne's handiwork. The blue, yellow and white threads seemed to blur and shift. Frowning, he blinked and looked again, and was startled when instead of seeing a flower, he now saw a face. He peered closer and recognised the face of his friend and former shipmate, Captain Jacob Marley, who had been first lieutenant of the Resolve when Frederick had served as third, and whose ship recently foundered at sea.

Frederick stared fixedly at the fabric, wondering if he had consumed too much liquor, but as quickly as the flower had changed to a face, it changed back. His pulse racing, he hurriedly shoved the bundle back in the drawer, closed the desk and then locked it for good measure. Rising from the chair, he took several turns around the room, intently studying every object as he passed by. When he saw nothing else amiss, he sighed and relaxed his shoulders.

Shaking his head at his strange imagination, he stepped out onto the larboard quarter gallery and inhaled deeply, the brisk winter air filling his lungs and rousing his spirits. Now that he was outside, he could hear a few of his men above on the quarterdeck, murmuring in quiet conversation. He quickly checked the sails he could see from his angle, then turned to watch the ship's wake as he enjoyed the feel of the wind against his face. Everything seemed normal.

When he returned inside, his steward had just come in to help him dress for bed. At first, Frederick was determined not to say anything related to the incident with the handkerchief, but then he decided that since his steward was very discreet, he would make a brief inquiry.

"Have you noticed anything unusual this evening, Denham?" Frederick asked as the man took his coat.

"Unusual, sir?"

"Yes. Things appearing differently than they should, for example?"

Denham neatly folded the coat and began working on unbuttoning Frederick's shirt. "No, sir. I cannot say I have."

Frederick nodded but still felt an uneasiness in the back of his mind. "Very good."

When Denham left, Frederick headed for his sofa, but stopped in his tracks upon hearing the distant sound of bells. It was not the clear brass tone of the ship's bell, but rather a high-pitched tinkling like hundreds of small crystal bells. He looked at his watch which read a quarter past ten, an odd time to hear bells on a ship. The bells ceased as suddenly as they had begun and were succeeded by a strange clanking noise, seeming to come from the gun deck below, as if some person were dragging a heavy chain. The sound brought to Frederick's mind stories of ships haunted by ghosts, but he did not believe in that superstitious nonsense. The clanking grew louder and louder until, to his horror, something passed through the closed cabin door. Upon its coming in, the flame from his hanging lamp leapt up, as though it cried, "I know him; Captain Marley's Ghost!" and fell again.

It was the same face, the very same one Frederick had seen on the handkerchief, only this time a transparent grey colour like the rest of his body. The unlined lapels and plain cuffs of his coat showed Captain Marley was wearing his undress uniform. While the coat Frederick had just shed had one epaulette on the right shoulder, Captain Marley's had an epaulette on the left as well, indicating that he was, or had been, a post-captain for more than three years. A long chain wrapped around the middle of his body; one end hung off his left side, and attached to this was a large weight, five times the size of his head and clearly heavy, for it rendered the coat somewhat lopsided as he stood on the deck.

Captain Marley surveyed his surroundings and pursed his lips. "I expected better furnishings, Wentworth. You enjoyed fine things when we served together, and I had heard you are quite lucky with privateers, yet your cabin is so shabby."

Frederick did not take the insult well. "Who are you?" he demanded, belatedly wondering if he ought to show more respect to a senior officer's ghost. Captain Marley's face revealed more amusement than offence.

"You know who I am."

"I should like to hear it from you. Sir."

"Do you not trust your eyes? Very well. In life, I was your friend and fellow officer, Captain Jacob Marley."

"Then my condolences on your death, sir." It was odd to express sympathy to the very person who was dead. "The news only reached me recently. It happened over the summer?"

"Yes. Got caught in a blasted hurricane while sailing from Antigua to Liverpool. All hands were lost."

At this the spirit raised a frightful cry and shook its chain with a dismal and appalling noise. Frederick trembled slightly and took a breath to calm himself.

"To what do I owe the honour of your visit, sir?"

"The spirit within every person desires to find true attachment and love in life. Should it be fortunate enough to find it yet unjustly deny itself of that love, it shall die with such a heavy burden of regret that it cannot rise above the earth; it will be doomed to wander through the world, witnessing the happiness it cannot have, but might have had in life!"

Again the spectre raised a cry, and shook its chain and wrung its shadowy hands.

"You are fettered, Captain Marley. Will you tell me why?"

"I wear the chain I forged in life, and the weight upon it is the sum of my regrets. I built them both of my own free will, month after month and year after year. Long ago, I loved a young woman and she loved me, but I did not want the burden of a family. I sought my happiness in the glory and riches of war instead. Rather than declare myself to her, I escaped to the freedom of the seas. I understood my error when, achieving all that I desired, my heart remained empty, but by then, she had married another."

"I am very sorry to hear it, sir, but what can I do to help you?"

"There is nothing that can be done for me. I am here tonight for your sake, to warn you that you have yet a chance and hope of escaping my fate."

"Me!" Frederick exclaimed. "But I have never unjustly denied myself of love."

"Have you not?"

Frederick scoffed inwardly. Certainly he had not! The only woman he had ever loved was Anne, and she had given him up, not the other way around. _She_ was the one who had unjustly denied _him_ of love. How could he be condemned for her decision? Frederick was tempted to tell Captain Marley that he was in the wrong place and should go haunt Anne, and he very well might have. He often spoke hastily and without forethought, but had learned to hold his tongue in front of a senior officer. Therefore, he remained silent and reflected instead.

When she broke the engagement, Anne said they should wait until they had enough money to live independently, without the threat of poverty. Frederick had been recently made commander and had no ship, but told her that he would soon have one, allowing him to earn prize money and eventually gain the important step of post-captain. When he could not convince her to trust Providence, he suggested a long engagement instead of marrying right away. Not only did she refuse his reasonable offer, but she said she was relinquishing him for his sake! It was a ridiculous excuse. If she no longer wanted to be with him, the least she could have done was take responsibility for her decision instead of shifting the blame to him like a coward.

After making post last year, Frederick considered writing to Anne but decided that she had used him too ill. She had shown her true character - weak, feeble-minded, mercenary - it was not what he desired in a wife.

The Ghost interrupted his thoughts. "You have been fashioning your own chain and weight, Captain Wentworth, in the same style as mine. The weight you bear is almost the size of mine, and if you do not amend your ways, it shall grow larger and heavier still."

The Ghost set up another cry and clanked its chain so hideously that Frederick thought the marine sentry outside his cabin would come bursting in.

"I do not see how that is possible, sir," Frederick said, looking down to see if he could perceive a chain or weight around his body. He saw nothing.

Captain Marley shrugged. "Your opinion of the matter does not alter the truth of it. To avoid my fate, you will be haunted by three Spirits."

"Spirits? I-I think I would rather not." Now that he had met a ghost, Frederick was not keen on meeting more.

"Without their visits, you cannot hope to shun the path I tread. Expect the first at one o'clock tomorrow night."

"Can they not come all at once?"

The Ghost ignored his question. "Expect the second on the next night at the same hour. The third upon the next night when the last stroke of twelve has ceased to vibrate. Look to see me no more; and look that, for your own sake, you remember what has passed between us!"

The Ghost now moved until it reached the row of stern windows. It beckoned Frederick to approach, which he did. When they were within two paces of each other, Captain Marley's Ghost held up its hand, warning him to come no nearer. Frederick stopped and became sensible of confused noises in the air; incoherent sounds of lamentation and regret; wailings inexpressibly sorrowful and self-accusatory. The spectre, after listening for a moment, joined in the mournful dirge and passed through the windows.

Out of curiosity, Frederick went to the window and pulled aside the curtain. The air outside was filled with phantoms, male and female, wandering hither and thither and moaning as they went. Every one of them wore chains and weights like Captain Marley's Ghost. Frederick saw one, a beautiful woman with a fine dress and jewels, cry piteously at having married a wealthy, mean-tempered man instead of the man she truly loved. Another spirit spoke of quarreling with his betrothed and, in a fit of anger, gambling away his fortune and thus losing her hand. The reasons for their misery were different, but they all shared the same heavy punishment.

The spirits drifted away together, their voices fading, until the night became as it had been when Harville left the cabin. Frederick closed the curtain. Exhausted by the fatigues of the day and in much need of rest, he went to his cot and fell asleep as soon as his head touched the pillow.

~~END OF CHAPTER~~


	2. Chapter 2 - The Ghost of Christmas Past

When Frederick awoke, he felt as though he had slept eight hours, but that could not be possible, for the cabin was still dark and the ship too quiet. As he wondered about the hour, the ship's bell rang out once, followed by the muffled voice of the sentry at his door calling out "All's well", and then the more distant voices of the other sentries calling out in turn.

He ran a hand through his hair and tried to clear the fogginess in his mind so he could think. Before going to sleep, he had heard one double bell signalling one o'clock in the morning. Did the single bell now indicate half past four in the morning? That seemed the most reasonable conclusion. Frederick reached up for his dark lantern and opened the slide. As light illuminated his surroundings, he located his watch and received the astonishing answer - half past midnight! It was not possible that he slept through a whole day and far into another night! Where was Denham? Why had no one awoken him?

Needing further confirmation, he scrambled out of his cot and walked around the large gun nearby to open the scuttle and look outside. The shining stars and bright gibbous moon against the pitch black sky confirmed that it was indeed night time. Frederick returned to his cot and lay down, trying to think it over, but he could not make anything of it. Had Captain Marley's visit been a dream? He remained there, swaying back and forth gently with the ship, until the bell rang out again, this time a double stroke.

Frederick scarcely had time to remember that Captain Marley had warned him of a visitation at one o'clock, when the room lit up in an instant. He bolted upright and found himself looking at a strange figure - like a child, yet not so like a child as like an old man.

"Are you the Spirit, whose coming was foretold to me?"

"I am." The voice was soft and gentle. Singularly low, as if instead of being so close beside him, it were at a distance.

"Who and what are you?"

"I am the Ghost of Christmas Past." It put out its strong hand as it spoke, and clasped him by the arm. "Rise and walk with me."

It would have been useless for Frederick to ask to return to sleep instead. The grasp, though gentle as a woman's hand, was not to be resisted. Frederick rose and they entered the great cabin, moving toward the sloped windows. Would they go through the ship as Captain Marley's ghost had done? How would that be possible for him?

He hesitated and, remembering the time of year, said, "I should like to put on a dressing gown first."

"You will not feel the cold."

As the words were spoken, they did indeed pass through the ship and were suddenly standing on an open country road, with fields on either hand. Snowflakes slowly twirled to the ground, yet Frederick noted that he felt perfectly warm and comfortable.

He looked around him, eyes widening in recognition. "Good God! We are three hundred miles from Plymouth. I was raised in this place."

They walked along the road and Frederick marvelled that he could not feel the rough dirt or sharp stones under his unprotected feet. He recognised every gate, and post, and tree; then a little village appeared in the distance, with its bridge, church, and frozen river. They left the high-road, by a well-remembered lane, and soon approached a small house. The Ghost stopped at the door and asked Frederick if he knew it.

"Know it! I spent most of my entire childhood here."

They entered inside to a family scene full of warmth and merriment. "Why, it's mamma and papa!" Frederick cried out. His heart swelled with joy at seeing his parents again.

He quickly walked over to the sofa, where his mother sat with a smile, her complexion rosy and full of good health. "Mamma, how are you?" She did not turn to him.

"These are but shadows of the things that have been," said the Ghost. "They have no consciousness of us."

At the pianoforte, a young Sophia played Bach's "Sheep May Safely Graze". A much younger version of Frederick, about five years old, held a short wooden stick and sparred with Edward. In the fireplace burned a great Yule log, which the boys had selected with their father the day before.

When the music ended, Frederick's father proposed a game of Blind Man's Buff, which was met with universal delight. Furniture was pushed to the walls and all three children begged to put on the blindfold first. Frederick's father said they would go by age, starting with the youngest. Frederick watched and laughed as his younger self stumbled around the room, short arms outstretched trying to find anyone within their limited reach and failing miserably until his mother allowed him to catch her. Edward went next and Frederick, forgetting that his voice made no sound in their ears, joined in with the others, calling and teasing his brother and moving out of the way whenever Edward came near.

When Frederick's father wore the blindfold, it was hard to believe he could not see, for above the ceaseless noises of his three children, he moved directly for his wife. Bumping up against the pianoforte and sofa against the wall, wherever she went, there went he. The children laughed until tears spilled out of their eyes, and so did Frederick. His mother cried out against the unfairness, but in vain, as his father at last succeeded in pinning her in a corner with no chance of escape. Pretending not to know her, he asked if she was Frederick, and the children clutched their sides and laughed some more. She wriggled free but was soon caught again, and this time he said her name. By now, she had also dissolved into a fit of giggles. Once the blindfold was removed, he pointed to the kissing bough hanging above them and was granted a kiss.

After more games, including charades and spillikins, it was time for the children to head upstairs to sleep. Frederick watched as his younger self climbed into bed and his father arranged the counterpane.

"Happy Christmas, Frederick. Did you enjoy the day?" The boy nodded excitedly. "What was your favourite part?"

"The plum pudding!"

His father laughed. "I know how much you love plum pudding. You were very lucky to get two servings of it today."

The boy paused. "Papa, when I stirred the pudding last month, do you know what I wished for? I wished that when I am older, I will be as happy as you are."

His father's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Did you indeed?"

"Yes. You and mamma are always smiling and laughing together. You are rarely sad and never angry."

His father smiled and remained quiet for a long moment before saying, "Mamma and I do have many good times together, but you do not see everything. We have our fair share of disagreements as well, but the good times far outweigh the bad."

"Disagreements?" young Frederick asked in dismay.

"It would be unrealistic to think we did not. No two people, however in love and well matched, can be in perfect unison all the time. But even though mamma and I may argue, that does not mean we do not love each other. Just like you and Edward - do you boys not argue frequently?" Frederick slowly nodded his head, trying to absorb his father's words. "And do you not still love him, even after you two yell and fight and storm away?"

"Of course. He is my brother."

"It does not apply only to your siblings, but all of your important relationships. One day, you will get married too."

Young Frederick's nose wrinkled. "I will?"

His father chuckled and patted his hand. "Yes, you will. And you will discover that marriage is hard work, but with a generous amount of patience, forgiveness, and love, it will survive even the darkest storms."

They exchanged a few more words, then his father kissed him on the forehead and blew out the candle.

When the surroundings lit up again, Frederick saw that he was in a different, larger bedchamber decorated in soft hues of yellow and light green. His mother lay in bed, her thin body propped up with pillows and covered with a stack of counterpanes. His father sat beside her, holding her hand and looking as if he had not slept in days. The window curtains were drawn closed and a large fire blazed, the flickering flames casting long shadows throughout the room.

"The apothecary will not tell me, but I know my time is near," Frederick's mother said weakly. Her eyes were half-closed and she struggled to breathe.

"You may yet regain your strength and health, my love." His father's voice was hoarse and tears threatened to spill.

Her fingers moved slightly, trying to squeeze his reassuringly but lacking the strength to do so. "Do not weep for me. I have lived a full and happy life. I only wish I could see our children with children of their own."

"And you will. I know you will."

She smiled sadly. "You must guide them in my stead. Especially Frederick. He is only nine years old and yet so spirited."

"He will need the right profession to channel all his energy. I dare say he will not share Edward's desire to enter the clergy."

The two shared a gentle laugh before Frederick's mother started coughing. Once she stopped, she replied, "No. He is too headstrong for the pulpit. He must learn to keep his emotions in check so he does not act impulsively or recklessly. You will help him, my dear? Promise me you will." Frederick's father remained silent as his eyes clouded and a tear slid down his cheek. "Promise me," she said more firmly.

"Yes I promise," he whispered, the tears now falling freely. He kissed her hand, then her forehead. "Rest now, my love, and Merry Christmas."

The scene faded and Frederick and the Spirit stood side by side in the open air. Frederick wiped his eyes.

"Mamma died four days later. Papa guided me as best he could, but he died seven years after she did."

"You miss them both," observed the Ghost.

"Very much. I have tried to follow their teachings, but perhaps have not done all that I could…"

The Ghost seemed to consult an invisible clock. "My time grows short. Quick!"

The effect was immediate. They were in another place. At a table sat Anne, looking strikingly altered since Frederick last saw her. She was thin and frail, and he could tell she had been crying excessively as her eyes were red and swollen. Her elegantly arranged hair and beautiful rose silk gown only highlighted how miserable the rest of her looked.

Frederick glanced around the room and started when he saw a dressing mirror and bed. Anne's bed, no doubt.

"Spirit! We should not be intruding here. Remove me at once!"

The Ghost raised his hand to silence him.

Anne held in her hand a miniature painting of an older woman. She stared at it and fingered the edge gently. Frederick moved closer to see it. The woman's face shared Anne's gentle eyes and delicate chin.

"Oh mamma, how I wish you were here." Anne's voice was broken and tired. "I need you now more than ever. I fear I made a terrible mistake. Lady Russell told me you would have given the same advice, but now I am not so sure. Would you have disapproved of him like she did? Would you have urged me to break with him so irrevocably? She insisted that we would be miserable if we married. I resisted her arguments until she exploited my greatest fear. She said if I stayed with him, he would be so desperate for prize money that he would be killed in action and I would be responsible for his death."

"What?" Frederick exclaimed. "I should have known it was Lady Russell's doing! She was clear in her dislike of me. How could she have said that to Anne?"

Anne continued, "His parting words were so angry and hurtful, but I do not blame him. My misery is of my own making. Lady Russell is taking me to Bath tomorrow, where I expect she will try to play match-maker. I do not want to go, but she will brook no opposition. Papa and Elizabeth are in agreement, so as usual, my own wishes do not signify."

Frederick recalled his angry words. He told Anne that she must not love him if she could give him up so easily. He also called her a coward and said she cared more about money than about him. In his heart, he knew he was being unfair to her but had not cared. Her relinquishment pained him so much that he sought to wound her equally through words. He would never forget the shocked look on her face as he delivered blow after vicious blow, not stopping until she finally burst into tears. Only then was he satisfied enough to walk away, and yet he was not satisfied at all, but instead overwhelmed with a sense of guilt at his behaviour.

Already troubled by being in Anne's bedchamber while wearing only a nightshirt, Frederick's agitation increased with the remembrance that he had been so unjust to her. "Spirit! Why do you delight in torturing me?"

"I told you these were shadows of the things that have been," said the Ghost. "That they are what they are, do not blame me."

"I cannot bear this. Return me to my ship at once!"

To Frederick's great surprise, the Ghost complied, and he had the sensation of falling, falling, falling until he landed in his cot on the Laconia and sank into a heavy sleep.

~~END OF CHAPTER~~


	3. Chapter 3 - Ghost of Christmas Present

Frederick awoke again in his swinging cot. This time, he did not need to consult his watch to know it was close to one o'clock in the morning.

Being prepared for almost anything, he was not prepared for nothing; and, consequently, when the double stroke of the ship's bell sounded and no shape appeared, he was very puzzled. Five minutes, ten minutes, a quarter of an hour went by, yet nothing came. As he sat up expectantly, he noticed a small stream of light through the door, coming from the great cabin. He stood up, put on his dressing gown, and began moving towards the door that connected the two rooms. A voice called him by his name and bade him to enter, so he did.

It was his cabin, no doubt about that, and in the middle of the room was a jolly Giant standing next to a great pile of turkeys, geese, game, poultry, mince pies, plum puddings, apples, oranges, and immense twelfth cakes.

"Come in!" exclaimed the Ghost. "Come in! I am the Ghost of Christmas Present."

The Ghost had dark brown curls on its head which were long and free; free as its genial face, its sparkling eye, its open hand, its cheery voice, its unconstrained demeanour, and its joyful air. It wore only a simple green robe bordered with white fur, and its feet were bare.

"Spirit," said Frederick, "conduct me where you will. I went forth last night on compulsion, and I learnt a lesson which is working now. Tonight, if you have aught to teach me, let me profit by it."

The Ghost smiled. "Touch my robe!"

Frederick did as he was told, and held it fast. Passing through the Laconia, they rose into the sky and higher than the occasional cloud. Frederick saw they were heading eastward. The coastline was not far, and he could discern the forms of cottages and farms scattered below. Soon they reached the Isle of Wight and slowed, passing over the ships anchored at Spithead before arriving at the door of a small house in Portsmouth.

Inside, eight young children sat around a dining table along with a woman who was visibly with child - she must be the children's mother. In the middle of the table was a cooked bird so small that Frederick could not believe it had come from a poulterer. Was it even a goose? A pheasant, perhaps? A bowl of plain boiled turnips was the only accompaniment. The children waited quietly, their spirits subdued as they eyed the food hungrily. Streaky glasses and chipped plates were set all around the table.

"Fanny, go get papa please," the mother said wearily. The eldest girl, about eight or nine years old and wearing a dress with sleeves stopping well before her wrists, dutifully obeyed and went to the adjoining room, where a man sat in almost complete darkness but for the solitary candle he held between himself and a newspaper.

The man made no movement at the sound of his daughter's footsteps. She stood there for a few moments regarding him with intelligent eyes that shimmered with sadness.

"Papa, it is time for dinner."

For a long moment, he did not acknowledge her. Then he grunted, set the newspaper down and grabbed a wooden cane that rested against his shabby chair. As he began walking, Frederick could see the man had injured his leg, but the unsteady gait and smell emanating from him spoke of too much liquor as well.

Once seated at the head of the table, he looked upon the food and frowned. "You call this a Christmas dinner, Fan?" His voice was menacing, almost a growl.

"We have a plum pudding too," his wife answered quietly.

"How could you not even manage to buy a larger bird? Why do I bother to give you money if you cannot spend it wisely?"

The wife lowered her eyes. "I needed to buy several yards of linen and muslin. William and Fanny outgrew their clothes over a year ago."

"Too many damn mouths to feed," he muttered.

Frederick studied the man's face carefully. "Why are we here, Spirit? I thought perhaps this man and I were once shipmates, but I am quite certain I do not know him."

"You do not know the Prices, but their story will be familiar. Mrs. Price is the daughter of a landed gentleman. She had a fortune of seven thousand pounds, and her older sister is married to a baronet."

"Indeed? I am surprised! With that fortune and good connections, why do she and her family live in such poor conditions?"

"Mr. Price was a lieutenant in the marines. He and his wife married for love despite his lack of money and connections. Her family disapproved of the match but she was determined to marry, leading to a total breach in relations. Then, two years after they married, Mr. Price severely wounded his leg in action."

"Losing the ability to earn a good income," Frederick concluded. "I see what you are doing, Spirit. Anne raised the possibility of my injury or death and said that her family might refuse to offer any support. You wish to show me this as proof that her fears were not unfounded. However, there are important differences. Anne's fortune is larger - another three thousand pounds would yield almost the same as Mr. Price's full annual pay, were he able to serve."

As the words came out, Frederick knew the omission in them. A marriage to Anne with limited resources was not what he had desired. Though he could never give her a life as splendid as the one she was born into, he had wanted to give her a comfortable one - a large cottage, a half dozen servants and a basic carriage, at a minimum.

He set aside that thought and continued, "Further, I am a post-captain, not a marine lieutenant."

"You are a post-captain _now_ ," the Spirit corrected him.

"Very well, but I was a commander _then_. The greater share of prize money is not insignificant. And most importantly, I have always been lucky and know I shall be so still. As proof, three years have already passed and I have captured many prizes with only minor injuries."

"You expected Miss Elliot to rest her future on good luck? No one can say when misfortune will strike. Mr. Price did not marry his wife with the expectation of becoming injured."

"If one is skilled and careful, then the risk of injury or death can be greatly minimised."

"Yet the risk is still there. Your friend, Captain Marley, could not escape a hurricane."

Frederick was annoyed by the conversation. Why was he even arguing with a Ghost?

"I have seen enough," he said impatiently. "Where are we going next?"

The Ghost took him westward, once more past the Isle of Wight as they hovered near the coastline. Frederick wondered if they might return to the Laconia or nearby Plymouth, but soon after the Isle of Portland, they headed inland. As they drew near the ground, Frederick recognised the area as one where he had spent many happy days and one devastating hour, so long ago. They approached the enormous, imposing house - Kellynch Hall. The faint sounds of lively music floated outside into the night air, and the windows blazed bright from lit fireplaces and candles within. Anne had mentioned that her father hosted a grand ball every Christmas, and it appeared to be in full swing tonight.

As they moved up the steps, a sense of dread filled Frederick, for he both knew and did not know what would come next. He was confident of who he would see on the other side of those front doors. But how would he find her this time? Hopefully not in her bedchamber again. That was an experience he did not wish to repeat.

Would she be married or engaged by now? Frederick never had any doubt that Anne would be loved and sought out by other gentlemen. Three years had passed since their betrothal; surely she had had many suitors since then. Perhaps she even met someone when Lady Russell took her to Bath. An unpleasant emotion suddenly seized him, one he neither wished to identify nor acknowledge. He was spared further time with his thoughts as the Spirit took him inside the house.

They came upon a group of musicians playing, hundreds of beeswax candles burning, and guests dressed in their best clothes performing a country dance in the large drawing room of Kellynch Hall.

Frederick's eyes immediately found Anne. She looked beautiful in her pale green gown as she danced with a young gentleman. The emotion running through Frederick's veins exploded into every fiber of his being. Jealousy.

The gentleman was well-dressed and had a pleasant countenance, but what Frederick noticed most of all was the adoring look in his eyes as he gazed at Anne. He was clearly besotted. Frederick looked to Anne's left hand, but he could not easily see it with the dense crowd of people and Anne continually turning and moving about. He stayed by the wall and slowly walked closer until he was almost next to her - and saw no ring. They may not be married, but they might still have an understanding. Frederick studied Anne's face. Her smile did not reach her eyes, and those eyes had none of the tenderness that she had once bestowed upon him.

The dance ended and the gentleman led Anne to two empty chairs in a corner of the room. Frederick followed them.

"Merry Christmas, Miss Anne."

"Merry Christmas, Mr. Charles."

Frederick wondered how Anne was acquainted with this Mr. Charles. He watched as Charles reached into a pocket, fingers trembling slightly as he pulled out a small box.

"To celebrate the festive season, I have a gift for you. A small token of my… well, here. Open it." Charles shyly pressed the box into Anne's hands.

Her long fingers carefully unwrapped the brown paper and opened the box. Frederick peered over and saw a pretty brooch made of gold filigree and pearls formed into the shape of a heart.

"It belonged to my grandmother," Charles explained.

"Oh, Mr. Charles, it is exquisite - too exquisite. I am very flattered that you thought of me, but I cannot possibly accept it. Such a piece should go to one of your sisters: Miss Musgrove or Miss Louisa."

"They will inherit several other pieces already, and my fondest wish is that this brooch will stay in the family too." Charles looked at Anne cautiously. She understood his meaning perfectly and blushed.

"He is going to propose!" Frederick exclaimed. And worse, he would be forced to watch it happen while remaining completely powerless to stop it. This was a hundred times worse than being in Anne's bedchamber.

"He is young and foolish, I suppose," the Ghost said, and Frederick recognised his own thoughts in those words.

Charles continued, "I know I cannot offer you all that you deserve, Miss Anne. My family has no title and I am not learned and well-read like you are. What I can promise you is my love, devotion and a good life. As you know, I am heir to my father's estate which brings in four thousand a year. For now, we could live on the grounds. I would convert one of the farmhouses into a cottage. You may choose whatever windows and decorations you wish, and you would live only three miles from your family and Lady Russell."

Anne looked down for a moment, studying her gloved hands, and then looked back up. "That sounds very lovely, Mr. Charles. Any woman would be lucky to receive such an offer, and could not be connected with better people than your family."

Hope blazed in Charles' eyes. "Then you accept? You will marry me?"

"No, do not marry him, Anne!" Frederick cried out. He knew she could not hear him but did not care. If there was some way, any way he could alter the events in front of him, he would not hesitate to try it.

"I find your reaction quite interesting," the Ghost observed.

"Why is that?" Frederick asked brusquely, intently waiting for Anne's answer.

"Is not her power with you gone forever?" the Spirit asked, turning Frederick's words on him again.

Frederick wondered how the Spirit could know his private thoughts. He had no time to answer as Anne continued,

"I am very honoured by your offer, but I cannot accept."

Charles' countenance fell. "I… I see. Perhaps I was too hasty; I have not paid attentions to you for very long. Might you agree to a long courtship instead? I am patient. I will wait."

"I am sorry, but it is impossible. You are a good friend, and I hope we shall always be friends, but we shall never be more than that."

Charles persisted for a few more minutes, making it clear that he thought Anne a most superior creature, and if there was some small chance he might one day win her favour, he would like to try. However, Anne remained very firm yet gentle in her refusal, and at last he pocketed the brooch and moved away.

After Charles left, Frederick almost collapsed in relief. A sudden realisation struck him.

 _Her power with me is not gone at all. I am still in love with her._

He heard the rustle of soft fabric behind him and turned to see Lady Russell approaching. He stiffened immediately.

"You refused him," she said to Anne, her voice even. Frederick saw the disapproval in her eyes.

Anne calmly met her godmother's gaze. "I did."

"It would be an excellent match. Mr. Musgrove's landed property and general importance are second in this country only to your father's. A union between both families is what everyone in both villages expects."

Frederick's heart stopped as he realised what was happening. Lady Russell wanted Anne to marry Charles Musgrove! Of course she would approve of the union. It would be almost impossible for Frederick to earn enough prize money to equal Charles' four thousand a year. Now Lady Russell would persuade Anne to accept Charles, just as she persuaded Anne to reject him three years ago. Frederick cursed. There was nothing he could do except watch helplessly.

"In a matter as important as this, I will not be guided by the expectations of anyone except myself." Anne's voice had an unusual edge to it. "I see him talking to Mary now, probably asking her hand for the next set. A marriage between them would join our families just the same."

"Mary! She should be so lucky," Lady Russell said, tapping her fan against her arm in frustration. She took a calming breath. "Will you at least tell me why you refused him?"

Anne turned to watch the couples dancing. "You know why, and thus you know I will not change my mind."

A shadow of guilt crossed Lady Russell's countenance so quickly that it would have been missed had Frederick not been watching her. She looked the other way and said no more.

Frederick and the Ghost were now in an open field.

"Spirit, why did Anne refuse Charles Musgrove?"

Had she done it for him? Did she still love him even after three years had passed?

"I cannot say."

The vague words did not escape him. "You cannot tell me or you do not know? You repeated my earlier thoughts to me; surely you know what she is thinking as well."

The Ghost shrugged indifferently and once again, Frederick was annoyed. He was about to say something unkind when he was suddenly struck by what he saw. He had not noticed it before, but the Ghost had grown older since it first arrived, and now its hair was grey.

"Are spirits' lives so short?" he asked.

"My life upon this globe is very brief," replied the Ghost. "It ends tonight."

"Tonight!"

"Tonight at midnight. Hark! The time is drawing near."

Somewhere, chimes were ringing the three quarters past eleven at that moment.

"Forgive me if I am not justified in what I ask," said Frederick, looking intently at the Spirit's robe, "but I see something strange, and not belonging to yourself, protruding from your skirts. Is it a foot or a claw?"

"It might be a claw, for the flesh there is upon it," was the Spirit's sorrowful reply. "Look here."

From the foldings of its robe, it brought forward two children. They were a boy and girl. Their faces, instead of fresh faced and cheerful, were unsightly and torn to shreds. Behind their eyes, where angels might have sat enthroned, devils lurked, and glared out menacing.

Frederick started back, appalled.

"Spirit! Are they yours?"

"They are Man's," said the Spirit, looking down upon them. "And they cling to me. This girl is Anger and this boy is Pride. She is capricious and inflicts great harm in the blink of an eye, while his damage is more insidious. You may not even realise he has struck until it is too late. Beware them both, and all of their degree, for on their brows I see that written which is Regret, unless the writing be erased."

A bell struck twelve.

Frederick looked about him for the Ghost, and saw it not. As the last stroke ceased to vibrate, he remembered the prediction of Captain Marley, and lifting up his eyes, beheld a solemn Phantom, draped and hooded, coming, like a mist along the ground, towards him.

~~END OF CHAPTER~~

 **Author's note:** By Christmas 1809, Fanny Price would be at Mansfield Park. However, I had enough scenes for the Past chapter and wanted the Present year to be the year of Charles Musgrove's proposal to Anne, so please forgive the discrepancy. Thank you for your reviews!


	4. CH4 - The Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come

The Phantom slowly, gravely, silently approached. It was shrouded in a deep black garment, which concealed its head, its face, its form, and left nothing of it visible save one outstretched hand.

Its mysterious presence filled Frederick with a solemn dread. He knew no more, for the Spirit neither spoke nor moved.

"Am I in the presence of the Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come?"

The Spirit did not answer, but pointed onward with its hand.

"You are about to show me shadows of the things that have not happened, but will happen in the time before us," Frederick pursued. "Is that so, Spirit?"

It gave him no reply. The hand continued pointing straight before them.

"Lead on! The night is waning fast, and it is precious time to me, I know. Lead on, Spirit!"

The Phantom moved away as it had come towards him. Frederick followed in the shadow of its dress, which bore him up, he thought, and carried him along. They travelled in complete darkness until they arrived in a village with quaint cottages. Frederick knew the area as he did before - the place where he grew up, only many structures and roads had now changed. They stood at the small church. Fresh snow dusted the ground.

"Why are we here?" Frederick asked.

The Ghost pointed a finger and Frederick followed it with his eyes to the cemetery, where he saw his parents' headstones. His heart constricted as memories of them returned to the surface. When his mother died, he visited her grave every Sunday after morning service until he joined the navy. Since then, he had only been able to return a handful of times. He had even missed his father's funeral as he was posted in the West Indies at the time.

Though the headstones were decades old by now, he saw they were neat and free of snow, with none of the moss and weeds growing on and around them like most of the others in the yard. Fresh sprigs of holly festively adorned them. Frederick was thankful to see them tended with care and wondered who had done it, for presently no relatives lived nearby. Then his eyes were drawn to another, newer headstone next to his mother's. It was also neat and clean, with holly and an extra addition in front - a small bouquet of forget-me-nots, a great expense from the hothouse at this unseasonable time of year.

Recalling that his father had purchased all the plots surrounding his mother's, and wondering at the presence of those particular flowers, Frederick approached this newer headstone with a sense of foreboding. Closer and closer he walked until he arrived, looked down, and beheld the writing upon it:

REAR ADMIRAL SIR FREDERICK WENTWORTH  
1783 - 1845  
DEVOTED HUSBAND, BROTHER AND FRIEND

While some might feel horrified to look upon their own grave, Frederick did not. Not truly. He was looking at the future, after all, and was pleased that not only had he risen to the rank of rear admiral, but he had also been likely knighted, for to be awarded a new baronetcy was almost impossible. Quickly working out the numbers, he had lived to the age of sixty-two. Neither of his parents had lived past fifty, so it seemed as long a life as he could reasonably expect. He nodded in approval but knew the most important question remained - whom had he married? Hope flickered as he stared at the forget-me-nots, the green stems neatly tied together with a blue satin ribbon.

Footsteps sounded behind him, startling him from his reverie. He turned around, his heart pounding in anticipation, but it was not the woman he hoped to see. It was his sister Sophia, approaching with three evergreen boughs. His breathing slowly returned to normal as he looked her over. Time had been kind - her hair had turned grey and she had more lines around her eyes and mouth, but she looked very happy and healthy. She stopped at his headstone.

"I see she has been here already," she remarked, placing one bough in front of each of the three graves.

Frederick wondered to whom Sophia was referring. His headstone said he had been a husband but not a father, so she could not be referring to his daughter. It must be his wife.

 _It must be Anne._

Sophia continued in a low, gentle tone. "Merry Christmas, Frederick. It has been almost five years since you left us, and I still miss you terribly. I cannot imagine how much harder it is for Anne. Her friendship has been most welcome, especially with my dear Admiral gone as well."

Frederick's heart leapt at the words. He had indeed married Anne! A smile spread across his face. It was a shame they did not have children, as Anne would have been an excellent mother, but all things considered, he was very satisfied with what he saw. This was not the dreadful future that he feared after Captain Marley's visit. Had he already altered his fate by the new feelings in his heart from the other Spirits' visits?

Sophia stayed a few more minutes before leaving, and soon two women whom Frederick did not know walked by.

"Those are Miss Elliot's flowers," one of them said. "Every Christmas, she comes up from Somersetshire to visit and leaves a bouquet of forget-me-nots."

The blood drained from Frederick's face.

 _Miss Elliot? Anne was unmarried?_

Then whom had he married?

"Such a tragic story," the other woman said. "Each of them in love with the other, yet they never reconciled. Then he unwittingly entangled himself with that horrid, mercenary woman."

"A worse wife he could not have had! He tried to treat her well and make the best of the situation, but that only made it easier for her to take advantage of him. How quickly she ran up debts with every merchant and destroyed his reputation! Then she went and got herself killed." The woman shook her head sadly. "They say his spirit still walks amongst us, bound to the earth by the weight of his regrets."

"No! No!" Frederick barely recognised his own anguished voice. It could not be so. He took a step backward in horror and his heel hit an upturned stone, disrupting his balance and sending him to the ground. As his body made contact with the hard, frozen dirt, the scene changed.

He was sitting on the floor inside a parlour. The room was small but neat, and tastefully decorated with a feminine style. At the table, he saw Sophia sitting opposite another woman. Having an idea of who she was, he scrambled to his feet and walked over to see her face.

 _Anne._

She was pale and worn with a hardened edge to her, not unlike the air of a young midshipman who had survived multiple bloody actions - a once lively, innocent spirit crushed by the cruel realities of life. Frederick's heart ached at the sight.

"I am glad we have become friends, Anne," Sophia said. "Frederick often spoke of you and I wondered if we would ever meet."

"I am glad, too. Had his death not been in the newspaper, I do not think we would have become acquainted."

"Even though we see each other only once a year, I hope you know that I consider you as a sister."

"We ought to have been true sisters," Anne said candidly. "It was my doing that we never were."

Sophia put her hand over Anne's and shook her head. "You cannot continue to blame yourself. Frederick would not have wanted it."

"I only speak the truth. It was I who broke our engagement and his heart."

"You were nineteen at the time! You did what you thought was best. No one can fault you for erring on the side of caution. And there was no reason why Frederick could not have renewed the engagement. He ought to have."

"Perhaps… if I had written to him…" Anne offered.

"No," Sophia said firmly. "You know - and more importantly, _he knew_ as well - that it was solely in his power to do so."

Anne sighed. "Yet he never did."

Sophia looked at her friend and considered her next words carefully. "He wanted to. A few years after Kitty died, he told me everything. During the war, he wanted to write to you; he even went so far as to write the letters, many times, but he never posted them. He was too stubborn and proud. Then he was married to Kitty, and after she died, he was too ashamed of what had happened. I tried to persuade him to contact you, but he was convinced he had ruined any chance he might have had."

"I would have loved him - I still love him - regardless of everything that happened." Anne's voice began to waver as emotion overtook her.

"I know. Frederick wondered about it too. About ten years ago, Edward discovered that you were still unmarried and had declined several offers, including one from your father's heir. It only made Frederick feel worse. He said you deserved better. He wanted you to find happiness with another."

"There could never be anyone for me but him," Anne said softly. Her confession of abiding love shook Frederick to his core.

"Anne!" he exclaimed wildly. "Anne, I am here." He reached out to touch her but his hand went through her arm.

His breathing quickened as he turned to the Ghost. "Please, Spirit! Tell me, are these the shadows of the things that Will be, or are they shadows of things that May be, only?"

The Ghost made no movement.

"I can still change it. Of course I can," Frederick continued, not quite convinced of his words. "If I write to Anne today and avoid all women named Kitty, then what you have shown me cannot come to pass, can it?"

The Ghost was as immovable as ever.

Frederick wondered at the possibility. He knew he had to do something, but when was the right time to act? If he made another offer to Anne now, would Lady Russell somehow persuade her to refuse again? Should he wait until he had ten thousand pounds or twenty thousand pounds? But if he waited, would he somehow entangle himself with a woman, Kitty or otherwise, no matter how hard he tried to prevent it?

"Captain Marley said I could avoid his fate. Men's courses will foreshadow certain ends, to which, if persevered in, they must lead," Frederick reasoned. "But if the courses be departed from, the ends will change. Say it is thus with what you show me!"

Still the Ghost remained silent.

"Tell me!" Frederick could hear the desperation as he raised his voice. "Tell me I may yet live a different life!"

The Ghost lifted its hand.

They were now in another house replete with the same delicious, spiced scents of Christmas Day that Frederick remembered from his childhood. The sounds of happy children filled the air. At a table, he saw Anne and a young girl cutting up silk and gold paper. Anne looked about five-and-thirty, with rosy cheeks and a happy sparkle in her eyes as she hummed an unfamiliar tune. Nearby, two younger boys wrestled and laughed. Festive holly and ivy were strung about the room, and a Yule log burned in the fireplace. The youngest boy came up to the table.

"Mamma, I am hungry. When can we eat dinner?"

Anne smiled. "Be patient, my darling. We must wait for papa."

"Will he be home soon?"

"Very soon, I am sure. Your aunt and uncle do not live far from here."

He nodded and smiled mischievously. "May we please have the plum pudding first this year? Before the turkey and roast beef? Please?" His eyes were wide and pleading with the same sweet expression that Frederick used as a child to cajole his mother.

Anne suppressed a laugh. "I know plum pudding is your favourite, but we always eat it last. However, if you are very good, you may have a second helping tonight."

The boy accepted the compromise and shouted in delight.

"And I shall light the pudding this year," the older boy said from across the room. "Papa said I could help him now that I am eight years old."

"Take care not to burn yourself," the girl said. "Remember how cousin Walter burned his eyebrows off a few years ago? Aunt Mary has not yet recovered from the shock."

The older boy made a face. "I do not think she will ever recover." He returned to playing with his brother.

Frederick heard the front door open. The scene seemed to get blurry, but he saw an older version of himself walk into the room, with Sophia and her husband, Admiral Croft, behind him.

"Papa! Papa!" The youngest boy ran to the threshold. The older Frederick laughed and bent down to scoop the boy up in his arms.

The scene grew lighter still.

"Wait!" Frederick said frantically. "Do not go!"

"Mamma! Papa is home!" he heard the boy say before everything vanished.

Frederick was now standing in the dark, his heart beating fast. "Spirit! That is the future I want! If I write to Anne today, will that be my path?"

The Ghost remained silent.

"You would not show me such happiness were it not possible, would you? Please tell me! I promise to take the lessons that you and the other Spirits have shown me. I will change. I will let go of my anger and pride and make amends with Anne."

In his agony, Frederick reached for the Spirit's hand and caught it. It sought to free itself, but he was strong in his entreaty and detained it. The Spirit, stronger yet, repulsed him.

Holding up his hands in a last prayer to have his question answered, he saw an alteration in the Spirit's dress. It shrunk, collapsed, and dwindled until it was gone, and Frederick was back in his cot.

~~END OF CHAPTER~~


	5. Chapter 5 - The End Of It

Frederick looked around the room. It was his own, his sleeping cabin on the Laconia, and best of all, the time before him was his own, to make amends in.

"I will take the lessons that the Spirits have shown me. I will change!" He repeated as he swung out of his cot.

When Denham came in, he could not hide his surprise at seeing Frederick already dressing himself.

"Denham, what day is it today?" The man raised an eyebrow but then quickly lowered it. He had never known his captain to forget the calendar.

"The twenty sixth of December, sir," he replied, grabbing Frederick's coat and holding it up for him.

The twenty sixth of December! The Spirits had done it all in one night! Frederick still had three days ashore and Anne was but eighty miles away.

"I have time," Frederick muttered to himself.

"I beg your pardon, sir?"

"Ah, nothing, carry on." Frederick impatiently stood still and thought out his plan as Denham finished helping him put on his uniform.

Frederick decided he would take advantage of being in England and seek Anne out in person. A face-to-face exchange would be better than one conducted through the post, and after his visits from the Spirits, he was anxious to see her again. He had many duties related to the Laconia to attend to but could pass many of them onto Lieutenant Harville, allowing just enough time to travel to Kellynch and back. Frederick did not want to chance missing Anne, so after Denham left, he took a sheet of paper from his desk and began to write.

 _My dearest Anne,_

 _Please forgive my bold address, for I know I do not deserve to use it, but you shall always be my dearest Anne. I cannot imagine any happiness for myself without you by my side. I have been unjust and angry, but have loved none but you. Tell me not that I am too late, that those precious feelings you once held for me are gone forever._

 _I write to you as a post-captain with five thousand pounds and the expectation of more so long as the war continues. My ship has returned to Plymouth and as you read this letter, I shall already be on my way to Kellynch. At eleven o'clock on Thursday morning, I will call at Kellynch Hall, where I hope to have the honour of asking for your hand in person and receiving a favourable reply._

 _I remain ever yours,_

 _Frederick Wentworth  
_

Placing the sealed letter in his coat pocket, he went up to the quarterdeck to start his day. Once ashore and with a moment to spare, Frederick stopped at the post office, then the inn to arrange a room for the night.

Early the next morning, Frederick departed Plymouth for Crewkherne in a post-chaise. His plan was to stay at another inn, since he would arrive at night, and then hire a horse for the short ride to Kellynch in the morning. Thankfully, luck was on his side. The roads were somewhat crowded with post-Christmas travellers but the weather was mild, allowing for easy travel, and he arrived at Crewkherne at half past eight. Unable to sleep well that night, Frederick arose the next day well before sunrise, shaved twice and put on his best clothes. He passed the early hours pacing the empty streets of the town, frequently pulling out his watch to check the time and occasionally shaking it, wondering if it was working properly. Never had time moved as slowly as it did today. Finally he returned to the inn for a light breakfast, and then with a heart full of hope and nervous anticipation, he set off for Kellynch.

As Frederick approached the familiar main gates, he slowed the horse to a stop. The area was quiet except for the mild wind rattling bare branches all around and the slight sound of skylarks hopping on the ground nearby, searching for seeds. Frederick suddenly wondered if Anne and her family were even at home. What if they had gone away after the ball? What if they had left before his letter even arrived? He had not considered those possibilities. Winding through the paths of the vast grounds and finally approaching the stables, he saw something which answered his question in a very disagreeable way: Lady Russell's carriage, easily recognisable from the arms on the panel. Surely this meant Anne was at the Hall, but so too was the woman who had persuaded her to relinquish him, and who just two days ago wanted her to accept Charles Musgrove's offer of marriage.

How would Lady Russell react upon hearing that he was calling? Would she convince Sir Walter to turn him away with that socially acceptable falsehood, that the family was from home? Frederick regretted not saying in his letter that he would meet Anne somewhere on the grounds instead - but that would not have done either. She was too proper to agree to an assignation. In any case, it was too late now. The die had been cast. He must accept whatever happened next.

A groom approached and offered to take his horse. Frederick dismounted and proceeded to the house on foot with much trepidation. On the next quarter of an hour depended all which this world could do for him. His mind was so occupied with what might happen that he almost missed the person sitting on a bench at the side of the house. His heart jumped and his feet stopped abruptly.

"Anne?"

She was already standing and making her way towards him, a vision of loveliness in a white velvet pelisse trimmed with sable and a matching bonnet, her cheeks pink from the cold winter air and a consciousness about her.

"Good morning, Frederick."

He blinked and stared for a long moment. Was she real or a figment of his imagination? "Why… why are you outside?"

"Your letter said you would call at eleven." She nervously bit her lower lip. "I wanted us to have a chance to speak freely, without the rest of my family nearby."

For a moment, her words struck fear in him that somehow, despite all that the Spirits had shown him, she wished to speak privately because she intended to refuse him again. However, her eyes shone with hope and anticipation. It was all the encouragement he needed.

He went to her and reached out his hand. He needed to confirm that she was real, that everything happening right now was real and not another scene conjured by a Spirit. When their gloved hands met, he squeezed tightly and held her fast.

"Anne, my dearest Anne," he murmured, bringing her hand over his heart. She lifted her eyes and gazed at him in wonder. "I must apologise profusely for the past three years: my unjust words when we parted and my silence since then. I refused to understand you and allowed anger and pride to overcome me. I know better now. I was foolish and stubborn, and as a consequence, I lost the best thing that ever happened to me. If you can find it in your heart to forgive me for the past, I promise to spend the rest of my days endeavouring to deserve you and make you happy. Will you do me the great honour of marrying me?"

Her beaming smile gave the answer before she spoke.

"Yes, with all my heart."

Frederick closed his eyes as her words sunk in and exquisite happiness flooded his body. When he opened his eyes again, he dropped his arms to Anne's waist and she tilted her chin up, anticipating his kiss. His lips brushed hers and she responded in kind. They continued kissing for several minutes, the two of them oblivious to the rest of the world. Frederick pressed Anne closer and sighed contentedly. Everything was right - the sweet taste of her mouth, the feel of her warm body molded to his, the way her delicate lavender scent enveloped him _._ She was the part of him he had refused to admit was missing, the piece that had been wrenched from his heart three years ago, now returned to make it whole again.

Eventually and with great reluctance, he pulled back. She leaned forward to follow him, unwilling to separate, and when they finally did, her slight frown made him chuckle.

"You must be cold, Anne. Shall we go inside?"

Her gaze lingered on his mouth as she shook her head. "I am perfectly comfortable." Before he could ask the next question on his mind, she answered it. "I told Lady Russell I would be gone for an hour to walk the grounds, so no one will wonder about my absence for some time yet."

He smiled at her foresight and offered his arm. "In that case, let us walk further out." There was nothing like the possibility of Lady Russell or Sir Walter seeing them through a window to dampen his desire.

As they walked, the Hall growing smaller and smaller in the distance, they talked about their lives since their last meeting. He mentioned his time in the West Indies and Mediterranean, and she spoke of Kellynch and Uppercross. The happy conversation flowed easily as it had once done, but a troubling thought lingered in the back of Frederick's mind. He led them towards the gazebo, feeling nervous about introducing a subject that would ruin this perfect morning, but it must be discussed. When their talk came to a natural stopping point, he took the opportunity to begin.

"Anne…" He glanced at her. She looked so beautiful at that moment - the sun shone upon her, infusing her porcelain skin and dark brown curls with a golden glow, and her eyes gazed upon him with extraordinary tenderness. His heart constricted at the thought of losing her again. He steeled himself by thinking of the Christmas ball and her refusal of Charles Musgrove. "Much has changed since we last met, yet I cannot help but worry that much may have remained the same."

She understood his meaning perfectly. "Nothing, absolutely nothing, will induce me to relinquish you again."

He moved a hand over hers and squeezed. "I could not bear to lose you a second time, Anne. My prospects - they are much improved, but Lady Russell -"

"Lady Russell erred in her advice," Anne said simply. They reached the gazebo and sat down on a bench. She turned to him with determination in her eyes. "I did not realise it then, but I do now. And as you said, your prospects are much better. With our combined fortunes, we will have the independence which alone was wanting before. Lady Russell can offer no reasonable objection to our marriage now."

"Perhaps not, but she may still object nonetheless. What then?"

"Her opinion will have no bearing on my decision. Not anymore." She placed her hand in his and intertwined their gloved fingers. "As much as you could not bear to lose me again, neither could I bear to lose you."

Frederick saw her move as the bold statement it was meant to be. Her frankness and sincerity touched him, and the strong clasp of her fingers told the truth of her words. He untangled his hand from hers and pulled off his gloves, then helped her remove hers as well. Pleasure shot through him as his bare fingers touched her warm skin.

"I am so glad to have you back, Anne."

He moved his other hand to cup her cheek and leaned into her, the smell of lavender consuming him again. Before their lips met, he heard her whisper, "I was always yours."

How long they kissed this time, he did not know, but soon the desire coursing through his body ignited into a raging, burning fire. He knew he had to stop while he still had some command of himself. He ended the kiss and placed his forehead against hers, his breathing ragged.

"As much as I would like to remain here, Anne, I must return to Plymouth soon. I also need to speak to your father before I go."

"Yes," she replied shakily, unable to say more as she too attempted to regain her senses.

He helped her up and together, they retraced their steps and entered Kellynch Hall. When they stepped into the drawing room with Anne holding Frederick's arm and ecstatic smiles on both their faces, Sir Walter and Lady Russell could not hide their astonishment. After exchanging awkward greetings, Frederick said, "Sir Walter, may I speak with you in private?"

The gentlemen left for the study and Lady Russell came over to Anne, while Elizabeth and Mary sat disinterestedly across the room.

"Why is Captain Wentworth here?" Lady Russell asked.

"He proposed to me again and I accepted. He is now asking papa for his consent."

"You are engaged! But my dear Anne, are you sure about this?"

"I have never been more sure of anything in my life."

"What of Captain Wentworth's profession, his lack of connections and fortune?"

"He is a post-captain now, which means any further advancement is by seniority alone, and between the two of us we will have a comfortable life."

Remembering Anne's refusal of Charles Musgrove only days earlier, Lady Russell decided not to press the issue. She may have succeeded in persuading Anne once, but could tell it would not work again. Anne's heart belonged to Frederick and there was nothing for Lady Russell to do but to take up a new set of opinions and of hopes.

"Then I wish you great joy," Lady Russell replied, and she repeated her felicitations to Frederick when he returned.

Sir Walter gave his consent and agreed to finalise the marriage articles with Frederick through the post. It would be an easy task, as Sir Walter's agent had drawn up the documents three years ago and other than Frederick desiring to increase Anne's pin money and jointure, neither gentleman saw a need to make further changes.

Too soon, it was time for Frederick to depart. Anne regretted his short stay but did not complain, grateful for the time they had enjoyed together. As she accompanied him back to the stables, he voiced the thoughts that she would not.

"I hate that I have to leave you so soon, Anne. And I am sorry I must leave England before we can marry, nor do I know when I shall return."

She wrapped both her hands around his arm, not wanting to let go of him until the last possible moment. "Do not apologise for doing your duty. We are engaged again; that is enough for me, for now."

"It is not enough for me, but it will serve as a lesson in patience. Had I not been so stubborn, we would have been married by now. I cannot wait until we are." He stopped walking and pulled off his gloves again, needing to feel her with his fingers once more before he left. He brought a hand to her cheek, gently brushing it with his thumb before moving to trace her jawline. "How much I shall miss you. You will write to me often?"

She blushed under his intense gaze and nodded. "I shall write a little each day and bore you with all the mundane details of life at Kellynch Hall."

He chuckled. "I look forward to reading every word." They shared one final, long kiss before parting ways.

~~OOO~~

When the Laconia departed Plymouth, the men noticed an immediate change in their captain's demeanor. Gone was the subdued man who seemed to harbour a secret sadness, replaced by one so imbued with happiness that he seemed to be lit from within. When the first post bag arrived on board, the men whispered that the captain, who once despised its arrival, eagerly hauled the bag to his cabin and emerged half an hour later with an irrepressible smile on his face.

The Laconia returned to England fourteen months later, and Frederick and Anne married at Kellynch church. After the war, they leased a small estate near Kellynch and the Crofts settled close by. Frederick never told Anne about the Spirits and had no further intercourse with them, but he continued to live by the lessons he had learned; and those who met him always said that he was a man of even temper who never became overset by anger or pride. The future, ever fluid and changing, did not turn out exactly the way Frederick had foreseen, but the overall feeling remained the same. He and Anne enjoyed over fifty blessed years of marriage, and every Christmas they spent together was filled with joyous laughter, heaps of plum pudding, and an abundance of love.

THE END


End file.
